


Crimson Tiger, Azure Dragon

by LePapillonRose



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: I'm going to try to group the short ones together so each chapter is a decent length, M/M, also I may edit some of the drabbles because I did write these 4-6 years ago, rated for steamy situations and also mentions of wounds and blood, some have character deaths but I'll be sure to mark those, there's also a few modern AUs and the genres go all over the place
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 17:58:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15801696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LePapillonRose/pseuds/LePapillonRose
Summary: A collection of DateSana drabbles I wrote on Tumblr years ago.





	Crimson Tiger, Azure Dragon

**_Dragon_ **

“So tell me, cub, who do you love?”

Yukimura stiffens as Keiji throws an arm around his shoulders good-naturedly. “Th-there is no such—”

“Come now, there must be someone you have an eye on! Someone who makes your body tremble, your fingertips tingle, your heart race!”

“That special woman!” one of the soldiers supplies.

“Or man!” another adds, taking a swig of his sake.

The small group erupts into warm drunken laughter at the young tiger’s silence. “Who’s left, then? A chicken?” someone else quips. 

Yukimura isn’t sure where the sudden surge of courage comes from, if it’s from the alcohol burning in his chest or merely a bold twist of fate, as he raises his eyes to meet that single blue-grey one. A small, almost awed, smile graces his lips.

“No... a dragon.”

* * *

 

**_Red-Handed_ **

“ _Shit!_ ”

A muffled crash follows the familiar expletive. “Masamune-dono? Is everything alright?”

“The goddamn shampoo bottles fell over again!”

Yukimura puts his book down and hurries to the bathroom; the water’s still running, and a couple of navy blue bottles have already slithered out of the shower. As he bends to retrieve them, he can’t help but lightly scold his roommate. “Masamune-dono, I understand your troubles with your eye, and I told you that if you needed assistance, I would be more than happy to—”

He looks up, and the shampoo bottles slip from his grasp—he then, too late, becomes acutely aware that Masamune is still _in_ the shower, warm water streaming down his torso and soft steam caressing his lithe figure. A fierce blush burns across Yukimura’s cheeks, and he stares determinedly at the floor as he once again stoops to pick up the bottles.  Masamune’s ensuing chuckle rings in his ears.

“What’s the matter, red? Dragon got your tongue?”

* * *

 

**_Battlefield_ **

Yukimura’s breath hitches in anticipation as the tip of Masamune’s tongue drags lower, lower, lower—and even as he grits his teeth, he can’t muffle a groan of frustrated pleasure when the one-eyed man kisses the tanned skin above his aching desire.

“St-stop teasing, Masamune—!”

Those narrowed brown eyes burn so passionately in their lust-induced haze that a single look threatens to set the dragon’s entire being ablaze with uncontrollable flames of pure carnal want—but even so, Masamune lifts his head, nipping at parted lips before marking the length of jawline with a slow, rough lick. 

"Then  _ fight me, _ Sanada Yukimura,“ he breathes against the shuddering cub’s ear—language he knows his rival will understand, because for them, everything is a battlefield.

His challenge does not remain unanswered, as his declaration of war is met with the promise of rapture. Yukimura arches into his hips, tearing ragged gasps from both their throats and sending them spiraling to the point of no return. A breathless smirk finds its way onto Masamune’s face, because now, he has woken the tiger—and he has no intention of taming it.

* * *

 

_**Forsaken** _

The familiar call of his name catches his attention, as it always does and will always do. Masamune does not turn; the jagged emblem of the dragon of Oushuu roars in white at his back, and he hopes it will serve as reminder enough of the very different grounds they now stand on.

Yukimura’s labored breathing irks him as it grows closer. Why here, why  _now?_   The Tiger of Kai surely cannot be so blissfully unaware of the battle cries swirling around him; he has grown. He has grown into a celebrated general, grown into an heir that his predecessors would be proud of—grown into a true tiger that has bared its fangs and proven its might on more than one occasion.

Then what has wrought  _this_  bout of foolishness?

“You’ve got places to be, red. Places that ain’t here.”

“I am well aware of that, Masamune-dono. But before the chaos of war falls upon us, there is something I— _we—_ must come to terms with.”

“War’s the exact reason it can wait," Masamune says shortly, not looking at Yukimura. "You should be in Kai making preparations, not—”

“No, it most certainly cannot wait!” Masamune can almost hear his rival’s fists clenching at his sides. “I have been running from this for far too long, and I intend to make good on my intentions this day! This blaze that refuses to extinguish, this blaze that refuses to still my heart, this blaze that is stoked and kindled by thoughts of you and you alone—” Yukimura’s voice rings in his ears, accusation after accusation—ones that he would return, if the time were right for such dabbling.

“Have I gone mad?” Yukimura is right in front of him now. “Tell me— _look at me_ , Masamune!”

Masamune finally does as is requested of him and gives a rueful smirk. “That a confession, Sanada Yukimura?”

Yukimura finally falls silent, cheeks burning crimson, and Masamune chuckles bitterly. It's too much, too late.

“…Well. Guess fate’s not on our side, then, huh?”

* * *

_**Nightmare** _

Even the strongest men cannot escape the deepest, darkest memories of their past.

Yukimura watches in increasing despair as Masamune’s head tosses from side to side, his sweat-drenched face twisting into an expression of what can only be described as sheer agony. His hands clench the sheets so tightly that his knuckles whiten, and the young cub’s heart pounds and aches. What should he do—what  _can_  he do?

A whimper shatters the silence—so soft, but so heartwrenching _—_ and it is then that Yukimura finds his resolve, hesitation and propriety be damned. He pulls Masamune against his chest, and the action unintentionally jolts the one-eyed man awake.

“Y-Yukimura...” His voice is hoarse, shuddering, and the younger man doesn’t need to look down to tell that he is crying. “What...”

“It will be alright.” Yukimura gently kisses the scarred flesh above Masamune’s right eye before holding him in an even firmer embrace. “I am here, Masamune-dono. It will be alright.”

Yukimura may not be able to prevent this, but he swears he will do all he can to help.

* * *

 

_**Accommodations** _

“Date-sama! We’re one room short!”

“And just why the hell are we a room..." Masamune trails off as he recalls the chaotic afternoon. It had been a good fight, until the battlefield unconsciously moved a little  _too_  close to the walls of the estate. ”Never mind.“

"What should we do, my lord?” A couple of the servants appear in the doorway, but Masamune dismisses them with a wave of his hand.

“Don’t worry about it and go to bed. Sanada’s mine tonight.”

The servants give their thanks and bid the two of them a good night before leaving. The one-eyed man turns to his companion, meaning to lead him to their room, only to find that Yukimura is bright red. It isn’t long before the reason dawns on him, and Masamune smirks. "Mind outta the gutter,red.“ _  
_

The spearsman bristles. "I—th-that was not my—”

“But you know...” Masamune leans in, warm breath caressing the shell of Yukimura’s ear. “You  _are_  my guest, and I’m willing to be accommodating..."

The other man gets up stiffly, muttering something about indecency as he begins to trek through the main hall by himself. Masamune follows suit, chuckling because Yukimura hadn’t bothered to reject his proposal.


End file.
